Whisked Away
by falloutgear
Summary: A reflection by Clara on The Doctor and the nature of her journey with him. Conflicting feelings conflate into something glorious and beautiful. Pretty fluffy.


I feel bored and restless; not unhappy, but like I'm stuck in a certain position and in desperate need of a stretch. I feel like a stiff joint, or a stale biscuit. A fallen souffle. Or at least, I did, but I don't anymore. Not now. Not since I was whisked away on a journey that at turns has seemed both terrifying and magical. There are times at which I still feel as if I'm floating; not really there; about to wake up from a dream... but I haven't woken up yet! Even if I could, anyway, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't want to. On this trip I've visited places I could never have even conceived before. Not in my wildest dreams. As it turns out, there is more to the universe than any of us know. I'm grateful to know. And I'm grateful to the man who's revealed it to me.

That man is The Doctor.

I don't know him by any other name, but so far I haven't seemed to need to. He is not like any other person I've ever met; in fact, 'person' may not even be the word to best describe him. He is not like us; he is not of our world, and it oozes from him, but in a way that endears rather than horrifies. He is striking, in every sense of the word; from his demeanor to his gait to his tie... to his chin. His eyes give a sense of him being both ever-present and, at times, phenomenally distant. Which is paradoxical but so is he. He confounds and delights; he is attentive without obligation, and profoundly wise. His soul is old, and so is he, but he makes it so easy to forget...

He has frightened me before; he seems to have a reputation that precedes him, and not everyone thinks highly of him, though more people do than don't. He possesses immense power and knowledge; while I feel he has been more honest with me than he's needed to be, I realise too that I have been shielded from the vast majority of what he holds in his brain. His heart. Hearts. So far, anyway. Every time we make a journey together, I get to part the curtains of his mind's stage just a little bit more; see more of what lies inside of him. Sometimes he means to tell me; sometimes he reveals himself unknowingly. Often, I glimpse the incredible and it's at those moments that the whole universe seems to hinge on his existence. That's when I'm scared. I want to know everything, but I can be patient. I don't plan on being merely a temporary fixture on the TARDIS. The snog-box.

Speaking of which, I've found that to engage The Doctor in any type of affectionate activity is much the same as engaging with a younger boy; a boy of much less than one thousand years. Kisses make him stammer and blush; he gives the impression of someone who, if not inexperienced, has felt the need to reserve himself deeply for a very long time. In spite- or more probably because- of this, I feel drawn to him. Sometimes very strongly. While capable of saving whole solar-systems, he has an aura of need around him. A need for companionship; an emotional hunger. A need for everything to be okay. It motivates him, but it damages him too, even if he won't acknowledge it. Maybe he feels as if he deserves the damage. Whatever the case, I should like to lift it, if only a portion of it. I would like for him to let me. I am willing to give him time- I understand 'time' doesn't mean the same thing to him as to me, and that's okay. I'm not the sort of girl who just gives up on what she wants, and I'm not afraid to show him this. Anyway, 'time' can and does mean something very new to me now, too. It's just a matter of getting used to it.

And I am getting used to it. Gladly, willingly, joyfully I am getting used to it. When I stand beside him and watch him as he enthusiastically plans our next journey together, I can feel the glow of his unyielding passion for the universe and his desire to share it with me. I can't help but smile. Love and affection for him fill me up, of different but equally warm kinds. I feel drawn to him as any woman would to a tall, mysterious, charming stranger, of course- he makes my heart beat fast and my fingertips tingle, particularly when he is in the middle of saving the world. At the same time, I feel toward him the way I feel toward little children; particularly when they skin their knees. He elicits two very distinctive instincts in me, and that makes him evermore special.

Sometimes he holds onto me and looks at me with deep affection; sometimes he'll glance at me and I'll catch in his eyes a glimpse of unmistakable sorrow. Sometimes he looks at me like he knows something I don't know. But he knows so much more than I do that it's impossible for me to pinpoint what it is his eyes are dancing around. Perhaps I wouldn't want to. If I needed to know, he would tell me.

I trust The Doctor.

I trust him implicitly, or else I would not still be here with him. A sense of adventure and ultimate curiosity brought me here, and The Doctor has kept me here, in more ways than one. I trust him to be my keeper, and I hope that in time he will allow me to be his. In the meantime, we will travel, and I will get to see more of the world- the universe- than I ever knew existed. I am ready to experience everything it has to offer, new and old; awe-inspiring and terrifying.

How thrilling- I'm ready, and I'm not alone!


End file.
